ceiling studies

staring at the same ceiling every day from late night to early morning the newborn sunlight iluminates my freshly torn skin as my eyes look upwards burning after a long time of not closing by now I know every dent every scratch and bump

my limbs weigh more than the ocean they stay glued to my tough sheets the expression plastered upon my face is one of great concern the thoughts running marathons around my head

the white ceiling knows me off it knows my bones my dimples and every freckle I want to stop looking at it but I am addicted I believe it is some sort of escapism but I will never change my ways